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She grins. "Take advantage of me anytime, for as long as you want."
That's all the invitation I need. I pounce on the lass and finish what I started a few minutes earlier, before that bastard interrupted us. Here in this room, I will set aside all my questions and worries. Nothing else matters right now except giving Erica pleasure.
Everything else can wait.
Chapter Twenty
"Please," I murmur against Erica's neck, then I drag my lips down her throat to place a damp kiss on the spot right at the base that I've learned makes her shiver. With my tongue, I tease and stimulate her skin until she shivers again and arches her back. I flick my tongue over the slope of one breast while imagining all the things I want to do with her in this bed. I can't see all of her breasts. Her low-cut shirt hides them.
"Why do you want it?" she asks, her words emerging on a soft moan.
I sneak my hand under her shirt, gliding it up her side. "I want unfettered access to you, my sweet rose."
"You mean you want me to be your twenty-four-hour love slave."
My hand bumps into the band of her bra, but that doesn't slow me down for long as I track the band behind her until I find the clasp. I unfasten each tiny hook slowly, loving the way she squirms impatiently until I've freed all the hooks and her bra hangs loose. I slide one hand around to the bra's front, pushing it inside the cup so I can pinch her nipple with my thumb and forefinger. "Lass, I like surprising you, and I have proof you like it too. Give me a key, and I'll surprise you more often. In many and varied ways."
Erica and I have spent three weeks enjoying each other's company, aka shagging each other relentlessly. We don't sleep together anymore, though, because that would only confuse an already confusing arrangement. Still, every morning when I walk over to Erica's house or she comes over to mine so we can have breakfast together, I feel strangely excited by the prospect. Once, I even found myself skipping across the lawn like a dafty. Every time I pass by Erica's rose bushes, I want to pick a handful to give them to her as a surprise.
But casual lovers don't do things like that.
One day, we were sharing a picnic lunch in a park Erica chose. I don't know where anything is in Chicago, except for Gil's house, Erica's house, and the restaurant Everest. I could probably find my way back to the airport too.
Casey had come with us to the park, and I held the pup's retractable leash.
Erica sat beside me on our blanket. Suddenly, she set down her sandwich and announced, "No more fancy-shmancy dinners at places where I couldn't even afford a glass of water."
I jerked my head up. "You didn't like Everest?"
"No, it was great." She took a sip from her can of root beer, eying me sideways. "You told me once you don't care about the trappings of wealth and your needs are simple. I let you know mine are simple too." She tapped a fingernail on the can.Tick, tick, tick. "Which is why I don't get the Everest thing. It was sweet and all, but you know you don't have to try so hard to impress me."
"Don't I?"
"No."
Of course I didn't. She was right about that. I scratched my cheek, staring down at the sandwich perched on my thigh. But Ididwant to impress her.
She hooked a finger under my chin, urging me to look at her. "Trust me, money does not impress this girl."
"What does?" I fussed with the collar of my shirt and cleared my throat. Though she tickled me with her finger that was still hooked under my chin, I couldn't pull off a smile. "I'd like to know."
Casey chose that moment to hop up from where he'd been lounging on the grass and nuzzle my hand. Maybe the pup sympathized with me.
"You impress me, Lachlan," Erica said. "You're a good man. The best."
I captured her hand, but her finger was sticking up between my thumb and forefinger. "Good, bad, I don't know. But you make me feel like a man, Erica."
Why the bloody hell did I say that? It might've been true, but telling Erica that was a barmy thing to do.
She stared at me, clearly dumbfounded.
I needed to change the subject immediately. So I drew her finger into my mouth, sucking lightly until she forgot everything we'd just said to each other.
Now, back in the present, I chase the memory away by ducking my head under her shirt to latch onto her nipple with my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the taut tip, earning a breathless moan from her.
Since our discussion in the park, we've preferred eating at home to having dinner at a posh restaurant. Why I had felt the need to impress Erica with a five-star meal still confuses me. But I avoid thinking about it by cooking for Erica, though sometimes she cooks for me too. This morning, I had fed the lass a good Scottish breakfast consisting of sausage links, bacon, scrambled eggs, tattie scones, and black pudding. I needed to explain to her that tattie scones were made from potatoes, but it was the black pudding that caused a problem.
Maybe I shouldn't have waited until after she'd eaten the pudding to explain the ingredients in that dish. But being a bloody stupid erse, I did wait.
